


you’re the mountains I’ve conquered

by swordgay



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Do Not Archive, Hate Sex, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Rough Kissing, kinda PWP except it’s not like. explicit, set somewhere in s3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 03:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16694761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordgay/pseuds/swordgay
Summary: “Jon,” he echoes, his forehead resting against The Archivist’s, eyes boring into him. “We have to stop meeting like this.”





	you’re the mountains I’ve conquered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taniushka12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taniushka12/gifts).



> Tania drew am amazing rough kissing scene for jontim and I loved the imagery so much I had to write it. title from my heart goes bum bum bum by flatsound because it’s literally them.

Even though his kisses are all teeth and no affection, there’s no denying that Tim’s a good kisser. No denying that every rough swipe of his tongue in Jon’s mouth is enough to make him stand a little bit straighter, to seek him out and pull him close. Then there’s Tim’s hand around his throat, pressing the sides hard enough to leave a hand-shaped print there, reminding him he doesn’t have control here. And fuck, when Tim bites his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, all Jon can do is moan.

“Tim,” Jon lets out, strangled and breathless at the sight of him standing there with blood on his lips. _My_ _blood_ , Jon reminds himself, but he’d let him draw as much blood from him as he wants if it meant he gets to see his lips painted in beautiful crimson red, like- an image of Tim in dark red lipstick pops into his head and Jon burns up at the thought, gets his hands on Tim’s waist so he can pull him closer, the want consuming him.

“Jon,” he echoes, his forehead resting against The Archivist’s, eyes boring into him. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

Where there might have been playfulness a couple of years back there’s only anger and gritted teeth and eyes full of hate. Jon wants him even more.

“You wanted to take your frustrations out on me,” Jon breathes, still holding eye contact. “didn’t you?”

He could easily compel him, get the truth out of that filthy mouth, but he doesn’t. He wants this to be genuine. Wants Tim to give him something, anything.

“I don’t think you could take it,” Tim snarls.

“Try me.” His tone is defiant on purpose, like he’s daring Tim to break him. And in a way, that’s exactly what Jon wants; exactly what he feels like he deserves, but more than that, he needs it. Needs Tim’s hands on him to remind him he’s human still, that he can be unmade and broken and put together again.

There was a time, long ago, where Tim would put him back together again - they’d sneak off to a dark corner of the Archives after a particularly draining day, or Tim would show up at his place on the weekend and they’d lose themselves in each other, skin against skin for however long they needed to. Jon would go pliant and soft under Tim, and sometimes, when Tim needed it, he’d go boneless and soft under Jon.

 _What_ _happened_ _to_ _us_ , Jon thinks for a second, but he knows the answer; knows the ugly truth of how his paranoia ruined everything, how he lost Tim’s trust and his affection.

He’s pulled back to reality by Tim walking him backwards and slamming him against his desk, and he lets him push him down onto his back, lets Tim climb over him and hold him down. Tim looks at him with lust and anger and god, he’s still the prettiest thing Jon has ever seen.

“Come on then,” Tim asks against his lips, rough and demanding. Jon wants to give him everything he asks for, but he knows it wouldn’t ever be enough - could never be enough.

Jon reaches out with his right hand to open the first drawer in his desk and rummages through it blind, his eyes still tightly shut while Tim works at his throat, bites the expanse of brown skin he finds there. Everyone is going to know this happened, and Jon can’t bring himself to care.

He finds the lube soon enough - a souvenir from happier times, when Tim would come in with a twinkle in his eye and sit in Jon’s lap until he gave up on the statement he was reading to bend him over the desk - and hands in to him, presses it into Tim’s hand to assure him he can take whatever Tim’s willing to give him.

Tim is vicious with the way he pounds into him, gripping Jon’s hips until his knuckles go white andhis skin bruises, but Jon loves every second of it; he welcomes the burn and Tim’s teeth on his clavicle, sees stars when he hooks one of his legs on his shoulders to get a better angle. Despite how much he’d hate to admit it, Tim still knows Jon and knows his body like the back of his hand, knows how to render The Archivist speechless and obedient.

They’re skin against skin like they used to be what feels like a small eternity ago, except now they share scars and small holes on their bodies. Except now Jon could rip the truth out of Tim’s throat whenever he wants, and Tim hates him for it, hates what Jon has become and hates that despite the powers and the monstrosity of it all Jon didn’t even have the decency to stop looking so good underneath him.Tim wonders if Elias is watching for a moment, and he hopes he is, hopes he can see that no matter what Jon doesn’t belong to him, never will. Hopes he hates that Tim’s the only one here who gets to reduce Jon to a mess of pleasure and tears and blood, that he’ll never surrender control for him like he does for Tim.

Jon tangles their fingers together when Tim puts his hand on the desk for support. It stays there, burnt mangled flesh against calloused fingers. There’s no longer any rhyme or reason to what they’re doing, just pure desperation and lust, and for a moment they both forget everything between them. They lie there after they both come, ruined and exhausted, the déjà vu of it sending shivers down Jon’s spine when he looks at Tim’s head on his chest. He expects him to make a move to leave any second now, or to come up with a new insult he hasn’t thrown at him yet, but Tim doesn’t.

He kisses him instead, slow and deep, and Jon understands what he wants; to pretend for a second that things are okay, that they still fit together.

Jon plays along.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! let me know what you think <3


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